


What Makes a Dad?

by academmia



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Logan is a good dad, Panic Attacks, Single Dad Logan, Slice of Life, Social Anxiety, platonic or romantic prinxiety you choose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26667907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/academmia/pseuds/academmia
Summary: Being a single dad is hard. Being a single dad raising a son with social anxiety is harder. Logan tries to do it anyway.Or, a series of Vignettes about Logan raising Virgil throughout the years
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 11
Kudos: 86





	What Makes a Dad?

Virgil is five when Logan gets the first phone call. He’s at work, and when the caller ID reads the school nurse Logan tells Chad he needs to step out. 

“Is Virgil safe?” He says, picking up the phone and cutting straight to the point. 

“Hi Dr. Sanders,” The nurse says, tension high in her voice, “He’s not physically injured, but he’s crying so much that his teacher sent him to me. He won’t tell me why he’s upset and whenever I get close to him he gets more upset. I’m not quite sure what to do.” 

“Ok,” Logan says, “I’m on my way, was there a fight that happened?” 

“No,” The nurse replies, “No one knows what happened.” 

It feels redundant to say that isn’t helpful. Snapping at this nurse isn’t going to make Virgil feel better, he knows that. But he hates knowing that his son has been crying, unable to calm down because the school is this incompetent. 

He comes back into the lab. He hates to ask someone to cover for him, but Virgil is more important than his pride.

“I have to go pick Virgil up, can you cover for me? I’ll owe you one.” He asks, turning back to Chad. 

“Sure Logan,” He says, “Is he sick?” 

Logan sighs, “Something like that,” 

Before Chad can ask any more questions, Logan walks out of the lab. He takes three rights and an elevator to the parking lot. 

He slides into the driver’s seat and if he drives 60 miles on a road with a 50-mile speed limit, no one has to know. It’s only a ten-minute drive, but ten minutes has never felt Longer. Finally, he gets to the school parking lot. Besides the cars of the staff, the parking lot is empty. Logan parks near the doors and walks just slow enough that he’s not running. 

He tries to walk in right past the secretary, but she doesn’t let him. 

“Sir, I can’t just let you in,” She says, politely but Logan ran out of patience yesterday. He doesn’t have time for this. 

“My son is in the nurse’s office and I need to go pick him up,” Logan growls. 

She opens her mouth, probably to inform him about some kind of procedure but instead, she just says, “Okay the nurse’s office is just down the hall,” 

Logan mumbles out a quick thanks and then makes long strides down the tiled hall to the door with a handwritten sign that says, “Nurse Robin’s office,” He opens the door without knocking and the nurse looks up at him with relief when he does. She says something to him but he’s too focused on Virgil to hear her. 

His little boy is hiding in the black and purple patched hoodie Logan got him. He’s curled into himself so hard that it must not be comfortable. Tears are streaming down his face and when Logan gets closer fear flashes in his eyes. Is Virgil afraid of him? Logan’s stomach drops. He stays back, giving Virgil his space. He’s not great with reading people, but he’s perceptive enough to see that Virgil needs his space right now. 

His son’s eyes flicker between Logan and the nurse as if trying to send a message he can’t say. It takes Logan a few seconds to realize what he wants. He turns towards the nurse. 

“Could you step outside for a second?” 

“Of course,” She says, and then the two of them are alone. 

Virgil takes a few seconds to collect himself before looking up at Logan with big wet eyes asking, “Are you mad at me?” 

“Starlight, why would I be mad at you?” Logan asks gently. For the first time since having Virgil, he has no clue what to do. He’s read every parenting book out there, but he doesn’t have a plan for this. Logan’s been through a lot of bad things in his life, but nothing feels worse than seeing his son struggle like this. 

“Because I made you come,” Virgil whispers, and he flinches back like Logan’s going to hit him. 

“I’m always going to come, Virgil,” Logan says,” I’m not mad, I’m just doing my job.” 

Virgil nods. 

After a few seconds, Logan asks, “What happened?” 

“People are scary,” 

* * *

Virgil is 8 years old and Logan is trying not to start shouting. For the past three days, he’s refused to get dressed or leave his room. No matter what he tries, bribes, negotiating, yelling, begging, Virgil refuses to come out. Logan has stayed home the past two days but he can’t keep doing it. He has to go to work and Virgil has to go to school. 

He comes into Virgil’s room, taking a deep breath at the door. Losing his temper won’t do anyone any good. He has to be calm, collected, and reasonable. Not like his parents. Virgil is curled up in his hoodie in the corner of his room with puffy red eyes and exhaustion eight-year-olds aren’t supposed to have. 

Seeing his son makes the anger drain out of him until Logan feels like an empty shell. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to force him to do anything. He doesn’t want to make his son scared or sad. But this is what being a parent is like right? He’s not Virgil’s friend, he’s his father no matter how much that kills him. 

He kneels down to meet Virgil’s big brown eyes, “Virgil you need to go to school.” 

Virgil shakes his head, “I don’t wanna,” 

Logan sighs, “Well why not?” 

Virgil bits his lip, and Logan resists the urge to tell him to stop, “I don’t like it,” 

“Most people don’t like school Virgil, but sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do,” 

Virgil frowns, “Why?”

“Because to get the things we want, sometimes we have to work hard. Going to school will help you acquire the skills you need to get into college and pursue a career that fulfills you.” 

Virgil nods, “That makes sense but…” He pauses as if he has something to say but lacks the right words “I’m scared.” 

Logan put a gentle hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “Everyone’s scared Virgil, it’s a normal part of growing up.”

Virgil looks like he has more to say but he just stands, grabs his backpack for the first time in three days, and follows Logan out the door. 

* * *

Virgil is 12 years old when Logan realizes that not everyone experiences the same kind of fear his son does. 

They’re at a party hosted by Logan’s work. Logan would have left Virgil home, but his babysitter canceled. Virgil seemed terrified to go, but Logan assumed that was how any child would react to the prospect of an adult party. Logan let Virgil take his phone and headphones and promised his favorite ice cream afterward.

When they get to the front of the house Virgil looks at it like it might just come alive and attack him. Logan puts a hand on his shoulder and feels Virgil try to relax. 

“It’s gonna be fine,” Logan says. Virgil doesn’t reply. 

They enter the party and Logan’s senses have quickly filled with the smell of champagne and the sound of conversation. Apart from a lab, this is Logan’s element. Talking to academics has always been something he's good at, and he falls into it easily. He loves this, talking with people who don’t tell him to slow down or speak “in English”. He greets his coworkers and as does he can feel Virgil press closer into him. He’s wearing the headphones and he’s slightly shaking. Anxiety radiates off him and Logan’s first mistake of the night is assuming that’s just a middle schooler thing. He was never one for parties. Virgil knows none of these people so it makes sense that he would be quiet and nervous. 

They make their way around the room Logan making small talk with his coworkers as Virgil glances around. He almost forgets Virgil is there until when during his fifth conversation when his son tugs on his sleeve, hard. His eyes are alight with fear and he’s shaking. 

“I can’t breathe,” He chokes out. 

Logan feels like he’s supposed to understand something, but he doesn’t get it. Virgil doesn’t have Asthma, hasn’t eaten anything the entire party, and was perfectly healthy before they walked in. Why would he….

_Oh_. 

It’s so obvious, all the signs were right there, the fear, the “meltdowns” he had to pick Virgil up from, this is a panic attack. Logan’s had a few in his life, mostly during college. They’re absolute hell, his head spun and he couldn’t seem to suck in enough air or move a muscle. He just sat there for minutes that felt like hours until he wore himself out, unable to move. Virgil shouldn’t be going through that at 12. Panic Attacks are brutal, cruel, and destructive. Logan wouldn’t wish them on his worst enemy, certainly not. Logan should’ve been better, should have seen what’s going on. His son is struggling, silently screaming for years and Logan thought it was normal.

He gently grabs Virgil by the shoulder and leads his shaking body out into the cold air. They sit down on the sidewalk. Logan wraps an arm around Virgil’s shaking shoulders and gently tugs him to lean against his side. He whispers a breathing Pattern for Virgil and himself and eventually, the two of them are breathing out cold puffs of air together. Virgil makes a little happy noise and leans into Logan more. His breathing gets deeper and his eyelids flutter shut. Within seconds he’s sleeping on Logan. Logan runs his tense fingers through Virgil’s curly hair, trying to remind himself that his son his safe. 

He’s always hated not knowing, ever since he was aware of knowledge. But he loathes it more than ever now because ignorance is what made him fail Virgil. There is no greater shame than that, is there? 

Logan sighs, and makes the mental reminder to call a therapist the next morning. Even if he can’t provide what his son needs, he will make sure someone else can. 

Logan sits on the curb of the street. He breathes. He counts the cars as they pass by and vows to be a better parent. 

* * *

Emile Picani is everything that Logan isn’t. Dr. Picani is warm when Logan is cold. He understands the cartoons Virgil loves to spend Saturday mornings watching while Logan feels like he’ll always be two steps behind. He sings loudly when he enters the room and wear’s pastel pink ties and caramel-colored cardigans. Dr. Picani makes Virgil laugh and Logan doesn’t remember the last time he’s been able to do that. The only thing the two of them have in common is their matching glasses. 

According to Emile, Virgil has Social Anxiety. He figures it out after a 45-minute session while it took Logan 12 years to suspect. Logan isn’t sure what the two of them talk about when Virgil walks into his colorful office, Virgil certainly won’t tell him. But he thinks whatever Emile’s doing, it’s helping. Virgil seems more relaxed now and his nails are starting to grow out a little bit. The progress is slow, sometimes painfully so, but it’s there. Logan can see it, every time Virgil surprises him. 

Like how when Logan took Virgil to their favorite ice cream spot. Post-therapy ice cream started as a way to bribe Virgil into going, but even after a year, Logan doesn’t have the heart to stop going. The two of them entered the shop, Logan making small talk with the shop owner while Virgil took great interest in his shoes. He ordered their usual, a scoop of vanilla in a sugar cone for him and a scoop of chocolate in a cup for Virgil. 

They sit down at their little table in the corner. Virgil sits down quietly, lightly spinning the stool with his feet. Logan digs into is ice cream, content to enjoy the chocolatey goodness and rare time spent with his son when Virgil speaks up

“I forgot a spoon,” 

“Would you like me to ask James for one?” Logan said, already about to get up. 

Virgil clicks his fingers against the table, “No...um I’ll do it,” 

Logan pauses in surprise, “You sure?” 

Vigil nods, “Yeah” 

Logan watches as Virgil shakily gets up from his seat and walks over to the counter. He watches Virgil twist his fingers as he asks the man working the machine. The man hands him a white plastic spoon and Virgil awkwardly thanks him for it. Logan wonders when Virgil was able to do things like that. He didn’t know Virgil was deciding to talk to people at stores. Of course, he’s happy, pride doesn’t even describe the way he feels but there’s also a tinge of bitterness. 

Emile was the one to help Virgil, and now Logan and Virgil hardly ever talk. The sounds of doors slamming are more common than friendly conversation. Sometimes he wonders if Virgil’s mad at him, for letting him suffer for years without noticing. That he had to have a panic attack in front of him for Logan to pay attention to him for once. Logan wouldn’t blame him. 

Emile helps Virgil, and Logan can’t stop hurting him. Maybe if Logan was more like Emile he would be able to calm down Virgil faster or control his temper. Do things right. Be a good dad. 

He tells Virgil he’s proud of him for getting the spoon. Virgil just huffs and rolls his eyes at Logan. After a few minutes they drive back home and like always, Virgil doesn’t answer his questions. Logan resists the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel and puts on a podcast so he can have someone talking to him. When they get home, Virgil goes straight to his room without a second glance. Logan wonders what Piciani would think if he could see him now. 

Logan lasts two weeks before he cracks. He needs information after being deprived of it for so long. So two weeks later, after another one of Virgil’s sessions, Logan asks his son to stay in the waiting room while he apprehensively walks into the therapist's office. Dr. Picani greets him with a warm smile and cartoon reference Logan pretends to understand. 

“So Dr. Sanders, what can I do for you?” Dr. Picani says with a warm smile. 

“I was wondering if I could ask you a question.” 

“Sure!” he says, “Wanna sit down?” 

Logan nods and sits down in the middle of the couch, now face to face with one of the most important people in Virgil’s life.

He takes a deep breath and gets straight to point. Better to rip the band-aid off now. 

“Am I a bad father?” 

Dr. Picani’s eyes widen and he sets down his leather-bound journal. For a few minutes, the two of them are silent, as the therapist thinks and Logan tries to hold himself together. He will not break down on this couch. 

“Y’know,” Dr. Picani says, “You and Virgil aren’t so different,” 

“What?” 

“You’re both so scared of disappointing each other,” 

Wait...what? 

“He worries about disappointing me?” 

“Yeah,” Dr. Picani nods, “I can’t get into it without Virgil’s consent but he does.” 

“Oh,” Logan says dumbly. 

“Logan, I work with a lot of kids. I know what a bad parent looks like, which is why I can say that you don’t fit the description. As far as I’m concerned, you’re doing everything right okay? Just keep doing what you’re doing, these things take time,” 

* * *

Logan feels like he’s doing everything wrong.

“I’m not going!” Virgil shouts. 

“Virgil-” Logan says, trying not to stoop to his level. 

“What?” He snaps with that unbearable tone like Logan hasn’t done everything in his power to help him

“You can’t just use your anxiety as an excuse for everything,” The words slip out before he can stop them and Logan runs his hand through his hair in frustration. 

Virgil’s face flashes with hurt and it stings. Logan is aware that his temper is one of his bigger flaws. It’s entirely irrational but he’s always thought there was an ugly monster living inside him that leaped out when he snapped. He’s the one in the wrong, Virgil can’t control his anxiety and he’s the child. Logan isn’t a teenager with a developing brain, nor a mental illness to explain the wild rage he feels. It lashes out, with ugly arms with knives for hands and it hurts all the good people around him. It’s the reason the other side of the bed is cold and it’s the reason Virgil is growing up with one dad instead of two.

Virgil masks the hurt and his face morphs back into a rage. Maybe this is why Emile says they’re similar because looking at Virgil right now is like staring into a mirror. 

“Fuck you, dad,” Virgil says and then he slams the door with a loud bang. 

Logan is left numb, standing in the living room by himself. Everyone always leaves. He wouldn’t be surprised if when he turned eighteen Virgil would decide to get away as soon as he could. Logan wouldn’t blame him. All he can hear is that door slamming over and over and over again. Virgil deserved better but Logan didn’t know if he could give that to him. 

Just another day in the Sanders household he supposed.

\----

Virgil and Logan don’t do normal apologies. Neither of them says it often, it’s just how they are. They do it through actions, small little ways of saying “I’ll do better next time,” 

So when a week later Virgil hands him a thermos filled with his favorite smoothie before he heads out to work, Logan doesn’t question it. He just gives his son a small smile and takes it before heading out the door. 

And when Virgil comes home from school the next week to Black Caldron queued up on the tv, with popcorn and root beer by his spot on the couch, he doesn’t say anything either. He just sits down next to Logan and leans into him as the screen comes to life. 

Logan doesn’t say anything, but the feeling of Virgil leaning into him, comfortable enough to touch him, is amazing. He doesn’t watch the movie, but he does watch Virgil watch the movie. Logan watches him laugh and lip-sync his favorite lines and roll his eyes at the inaccuracies. 

He doesn’t deserve Virgil, but Logan is selfish. He wants them to stay like this forever. 

* * *

“Do I make you sad?”

Logan glances up from his work to see Virgil standing there, tired, fidgeting with the strings of the hoodie, waiting for an answer. Logan doesn’t know where this is coming from, because Virgil is so utterly wrong he doesn’t know what to do. Does he...seem sad? 

“Why would you make me sad?” Logan asks, feeling like he’s missing something. 

“I don’t know,” Virgil mumbles, “I just um, think that if I had a kid, and they were like me, they would make me sad. I’m not good, I argue back and I have panic attacks and anxiety. I’m a teenager and I don’t have any friends, and um I’m bad at school. I’m deadweight. I would love that kid...because they're my family and I’d be their dad and stuff but...”

“You’re wrong,” 

“...What” 

“I don’t know how to else to say it, Virgil, you’re wrong,” Logan says fiercely, trying to put how he’s feeling into words, “You don’t make me sad, and if you had a kid that was like you, you wouldn’t be sad either. Virgil, I can’t even describe it, you make me so happy. Of course, I worry about you, sometimes too much and sometimes I feel sad that you can’t see yourself the way I do but Virgil, the fact that you are my son will never make me sad so-” 

Before he can finish, Virgil throws his arms around Logan. Logan closes his mouth and realizes this is a hug, Virgil is hugging him. He returns it. The two of them have never been good at emotions but Logan makes a mental note to tell Virgil he’s proud more often. 

* * *

“Hey Virgil, I have to go to the lab for an extra shift, there’s dinner in the fridge okay,” 

Virgil just gives him a friendly eyeroll, “Pack it up, Bill Nye,”

“I’m already backed up, and I’m Logan Sanders, not Bill Nye,” 

Virgil just gives him the look and Logan makes a little oh sound. 

“This is a Gen-Z thing I don’t know isn’t it” 

“Yep,” 

“Ah”

* * *

Virgil is 16 years old when he doesn't come home on time. When the clock hits five pm, Logan notices but isn’t very concerned. Occasionally Virgil stays after school to work on art or stay in the library, it’s not uncommon. When the clock strikes six a twinge of worry follows Logan around. He’s not trying to be pushy, he knows Virgil hates it, but when the sun starts to set Logan calls him. It goes straight to voicemail. He tries again, same response. 

Logan is trying to be rational, trying to stay calm but he can’t seem to logic his way out of this one. Sure, it’s normal for teenagers to stay out late, be rebellious, get drunk with their friends. A long time ago Logan was one of those teenagers. But Virgil isn’t a normal teacher. Even when Logan has a rare drink his shoulders get tense like he was waiting for something bad to happen. His greatest fear is making a spectacle of himself, and alcohol would make that fear much more real. Plus, Virgil doesn’t have any friends to go out with. 

By the time the clock hits 10, Logan has filled Virgil’s inbox with voicemails. Some of them are angry, some of them are long, short, sad, some of them are just Logan sitting there at a loss for what to say. Is his son lying in a ditch somewhere? Kidnapped? Did Logan miss the signs of suicidal thoughts until it was too late? So much could be happening, _and he didn’t know enough_.

Logan tapped his fingers around the cold cup of coffee he forgot he was holding and tried to relax. Panicking wasn’t going to help Virgil. He was the adult, he needed to have himself under control so he could help. That was his job. 

Logan spends the next few hours staring at the clock on his phone and taking tiny sips of his lukewarm coffee. He checks his texts and phone app. Nothing there, same as when he checked 10 minutes ago. Maybe this was his last day on the job and he didn’t even know it. Despite the caffeine, Logan’s eyes start to slip close against his will, and everything gets heavier, but just as he’s about to drift off to sleep, his phone rings. 

Logan jerks up, pushing his glasses back up to his nose. He grabs his cell and looks for the caller ID. It’s an area code in their town, but it’s not Virgil’s number. Logan picks it up anyway, because what else is he supposed to do? 

“Is this Logan Sanders?” A voice says, and by the sound of it, it belongs to a teenager. Not Virgil, but Logan can’t think of a reason a teenager would be calling him. 

“Yes, and to whom am I speaking?” 

“Uhm, I’m Roman Prince, Virgil’s friend, we’re hanging out and he wanted me to let you know that his phone died,” The teenager, Roman, apparently, says awkwardly. 

“You’re lying,” Logan snaps. 

“What?” 

“Who are you? Virgil doesn’t have any friends,” 

Logan swears Roman is rolling his eyes from across the line, “well then what am I, his arch-nemesis?” 

Someone else says something in the distance and Logan hears the fumbling of the phone being passed. 

“Hey dad,” A voice says, and it only takes him a split second to realize he’s talking to Virgil. 

“Virgil!” Logan says, “I’ve been calling you all night, where are you?” 

“I’m in Roman’s car, in the parking lot by the supermarket on the other side of town,” 

“And Roman’s your...friend?” Logan says slowly. 

Of all the scenarios he had imagined this certainly wasn’t one of them, and he’s unsure of how to handle it. 

“Yeah, he is.” 

“I didn’t know you had friends,” Logan says, a little hurt.

“It’s a long story dad,” Virgil says, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, and I’m sorry I stayed out late without warning,” 

Logan sighs. He should yell at Virgil for making him crazy with worry, for sneaking out, for telling a lie of omission, for not calling him and letting his phone die. He should ground Virgil and tell him to come straight home. 

Instead, he just says, “Does he make you happy?” 

There’s silence for a little while, and even without being there Logan knows Virgil is twisting his fingers as he thinks, “Yeah,” Virgil said warmly, “He does,” 

“I’m glad,” Logan says and isn’t that the understatement of the century. He’s over the moon that Virgil has finally found a person to be himself around, to have fun with. That his son was brave enough to make friends and stay up all night hanging out with them. That Virgil finally got to have a night of teenage recklessness he never thought possible. 

“I should be home soon,” Virgil says, “Princey’s getting tired, I love you,” 

“I love you too,” Logan says, and then he waits until Virgil hangs up to put his phone down.

Logan lets out an out of character cheer a few seconds later. He leans back in his chair for the first time in 8 hours and smiles. It’s a good night, even with all the stress. This is what he lives for. This is what helps him get through the days when he has to watch Virgil have a panic attack. Or the days where he has to watch his son fight his demons just to do things most do with ease. The days when Virgil is too tired to get out of bed are all worth it for days like these. Rare moments where he gets to witness Virgil’s happiness. He’s always wondered what makes a good dad. After 16 years of doing it on his own, he’s still not quite sure what the answer his, but he knows he’s doing something right. 

Logan’s eyes start to slide closed again, and this time he lets them. 

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: thanks for reading! I hope I did them justice. I’m really proud of this one. The scene where Virgil asks Logan if he makes him sad is based on a scene from Eighth Grade. Thank you to my discord server for chatting with me about this, I love you guys! 
> 
> comments are amazing, come scream at me on tumblr @thefingergunsgirl


End file.
